


0. The Grim Divide

by Ashery



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But I wanted to explore it as a writer, Cheating, Cheating is bad and I don't agree with it at all, Divorce, I don't typically do feelings, I'm sorry if I'm bad at this, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Not everyone's cup of tea I think, Past Abusive Relationship(s), Past Domestic Violence, lots of feels, this is very experimental, unhealthy coping strategies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29174997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashery/pseuds/Ashery
Summary: Two years after their separation, Roger meets John again for the first time.
Relationships: John Deacon/Roger Taylor
Comments: 24
Kudos: 24
Collections: Joger Week 2021





	0. The Grim Divide

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT: I have placed the trigger warnings at the bottom of the page (some of them not mentioned in the tags) because I feel like it will spoil the story. If you have any triggers at all, please check it first and skip this if you're not comfortable with the topics mentioned, and please proceed with caution.
> 
> Not important: Hi, I'm here to dump this 10, 000-word-long fic on you guys for day 3 of Joger week 2021, for which the prompt was divorce. I got the idea for this story in a dream and just went with it. This is completely experimental, and even though I kind of liked how it turned out, I'm also quite nervous about it. The story involves a bit of cheating, which I do not condone, but I wanted to explore it as a writer.
> 
> Also, I want to make it clear that all thoughts and opinions in this story belongs to Roger (my fictional version of him) and not me.

1\. Second First Encounter

The thing about love is that once you fall out of it, it remains that way forever and there’s nothing you could do to gain your passion for someone once you’ve lost it. Once you stop loving someone, you just can’t bring yourself to genuinely love them again no matter how hard you try.

But falling in love is the same too—once your heart latches onto someone with fondness and warmth, it won’t let go even if you want it to, even if the all-consuming love you feel ends up breaking you apart as harshly as reality breaks dreams. Until you fall out of love suddenly, against your will.

Even after more than two years since their separation, and even after countless attempts at building a new romantic life with all the best people he could find, when Roger saw John again at Freddie’s wedding, he couldn’t help the warmth that seeped from his heart and spread over his chest. It felt as if coming home after a long, taxing journey, to see your mother’s familiar smile as she pulls you into a loving caress that momentarily takes your pain away. It was as if the beams of sunshine had revealed the dark silhouette looming over him to be just trees, and the forest had finally cleared to uncover a path back to the main road.

All of the pain he had gone through over the past few years suddenly seemed as insignificant as the individual blades of grass under his feet, until he saw for whom John’s adorable gap-toothed smile had been flashed for. Roger’s heart felt as if it had dropped from where it had been throbbing within the shelter of his ribcage, into the pit in his stomach, as he watched a strong, capable arm wrap around his ex-husband’s shoulder like a snake coiled possessively around its prey. A tall man with broad shoulders stood beside John, his caramel-coloured mop of hair neat and his sun-kissed beige skin gleaming under the warmth of the rays of sunlight that showered them from the blue sky above.

There he was, the man who must be Roger’s replacement—or rather an upgrade for the cheating mess of the short, unathletic, useless baggage that he was—drawing smiles on John’s face as if he was the funniest person on Earth. Roger did not realize he had tightened his hands into angry fists until a soft, delicate hand took one of his and gently pried it open. Roger had never been a great actor, and he always wore his emotions on his sleeves as if they were cufflinks, so it must have been quite obvious how upset he was, with the deep scowl on his face. “You’re being obvious,” Dominique whispered discreetly into his ear, hiding her face behind her glass of wine.

Roger tried to smooth out the creases of his face, but he must’ve still looked flustered considering the glances he attracted from a few middle-aged ladies standing close to them. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to imagine himself being anywhere else but the garden where Freddie’s wedding reception was held. Dominique’s hand did not let go of his, and it grounded him with its warm and soft embrace. Once he opened his eyes again, he turned his back against John and his new Roger, considering leaving before he got noticed. Perhaps Freddie would be too busy dancing with Jim to care.

“Which one is he?” the dark-haired woman asked, her calm and cool nature a stark contrast to his disquieted behaviour. “The one with the perm,” Roger answered distractedly, stealing her glass away from her to gulp down what remained of her wine. He expected her to slap his hand away and take the glass from him, but she was too focused on watching John from the distance whilst pretending to look for a non-existent person among the jolly crowd. “You’re right, he is very cute,” she observed, before turning away from the couple ten feet away from them to look in the direction of Freddie and Jim talking merrily to a few people.

As if to signify the change of his lifestyle, John had altered his appearance and had possibly become even more adorable than the last time Roger saw him. His smooth auburn hair was now a wild, frizzy mop of perm atop his head that seemed to come to life with the slightest movement of his head. The dark bags under his eyes were no longer present, and his eyes sparkled with unbridled joy as his lips split into a wide smile. He seemed a lot happier, a lot less weighted down, and the look suited him the most. Even with how matured John looked now, at the age of thirty-one, Roger could not help but see the same nineteen-year-old nerd who worked part-time behind an ice-cream cart, the boy he fell in love with thirteen years ago.

Roger himself had a bit of a make-over after their split, although he didn’t think made him appear the slightest bit a better person than the douchebag that he was back then. He’d cut his shoulder-length dirty blond locks and had bleached it in order to gain a paler, butter-like colour, but other than that, he was still the same mess John had chased away from his house over two years ago.

“Mon chéri,” Dominique said, the endearment sticking like honey even though they had broken up two weeks ago, “I can fake being sick, you know.” Her facial expression had softened away to reveal that despite her stern nature and no-nonsense attitude, there was a caring and sympathetic woman who would go out of her way to make you feel better on tough days. A wistful smile grew on Roger’s lips, and he couldn’t help but resent himself for not being able to love her the way he longed to. She was everything he could ask for—as beautiful as words in ancient poems are, more sharp and astute than any other women he’d met, and both tough and soft at the same time. She was perfect, except for the fact that she wasn’t John Richard Deacon.

He shook his head, forcing a smile on his lips and hoping that she couldn’t see through his tough act, “No, he’ll think I’m a coward if I don’t even say hi.” He chanced a quick glance in his ex-husband’s direction, wondering if John had noticed him but just didn’t want to talk to him. He’d understand if that was the case. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?” He said, although hesitance was prominent in his voice. With Dominique’s hand on his arm, he led them both towards where John and his new lover was standing. To Roger’s relief, John did not scowl or walk away as they approached, instead sending them a smile as he noticed them.

“Hello Roger,” he greeted, extending a hand towards the blond’s direction. Roger took the handshake gratefully as an offering of peace. “Hi John,” he returned, hoping that his smile wasn’t as tight as he feared it was, “This is Dominique.” John turned to her as if noticing her for the first time, and was quick to shake her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Dominique. This is Adam,” he introduced, the man beside him smiling to reveal a perfect row of pearly white teeth. Adam’s hand was large and rough, but Roger was quite sure that his own grip was harder and more aggressive as they shared a brief handshake. From the way Dominique nudged him, his face must have given away the distaste he felt towards the other man.

“How long have you two been together?” He asked while trying his best to maintain a neutral expression, even though he didn’t want to hear about John’s dating life only to have it grate against his nerves and draw out the worst in him. John turned to look at his new lover, a fond smile on his lips. “We met at the gym about eight months ago, and began dating two months after,” he replied, his boyfriend confirming it with an enthusiastic nod and a grin, “And you two? You’re dating, right?” As if to make it more obvious that Dominique and him were in a romantic relationship (albeit a fake one), Roger wrapped an arm around his ex-girlfriend’s waist.

“We’ve been together for only about two months or so,” he responded with a statement that would’ve been true had they not broke up a couple of weeks ago. The conversation which followed was light-hearted and wasn’t as difficult as he had imagined it would be, considering that Adam was standing right next to John, where Roger used to belong. The well-built man didn’t speak much, although Roger suspected that it was because the former could sense his animosity towards him, and not that he was shy. He learned that John had been recently promoted, and even though he congratulated the other man and told him he was happy for him, he couldn’t help the traitorous bitterness that ran through his vein like thick, black coffee—it seemed that everything in John’s life had been changing for the better after he left, while all Roger had done so far was cry during the nights he thought of his ex-husband.

He also learned that John had been visiting the gym quite regularly these days, which explained how much sturdier his physique looked compared to the last time they saw each other. “My therapist suggested it, and I’m glad because it’s a much better coping mechanism than overworking myself to death,” John had explained with an easy smile, and Roger couldn’t help but feel guilty that what he had done was so bad that John had to seek help from a therapist to get over it. In return, he told them that he’d been working as a sales assistant at a music store after moving out from John’s apartment. He also shared with them his involvement with a local band which played in a few pubs every Saturday night. “We’re not serious, but I’ve been having fun playing for them,” he said. John responded with a bright smile, “That sounds good. I always thought you’d end up in a band someday.”

Despite how much he enjoyed being able to talk to John again like this—to hear him still laugh at the stupidest jokes Roger made as if they were the peak of comedy, and to hear him talk passionately about some technical electronic stuff he couldn’t even begin to wrap his head around—there was a tiny voice at the back of his mind screaming at him that none of this was right. The voice told him that he didn’t deserve to talk so freely with John again, not after breaking his trust and causing him so much pain. He deserved all of John’s fury at their most intense, to be pushed away and screamed at, yet the way John treated him was no different than he would an old friend. Roger’s heart ached thinking about how forgiving and matured John was, and wondered why such a kind man ever settled down with him.

“You know, I found out that Freddie invited us to his house to catch up this Sunday to catch up during two separate times,” John mentioned, sparing a glance in Freddie’s direction, “I think he’s wary of making it awkward for us.” That did sound like something Freddie would do, with how considerate he was. Still, it was quite hurtful to think that even though the four of them—Freddie, Brian, John, and himself—had once been so close, they can now no longer be alone in the same room together. Roger flashed a sad smile, wondering why everything had to come to this (the voice in his head supplied that he knew damn well why, and it was all because of him) .

John was casual as he continued, “I don’t think it’s necessary though. How about we just show up at the same time? You don’t mind that, do you?” Roger shook his head as quick as his reflexes allowed him. In a few days, he would end up in his own apartment by himself, thinking of John and regretting hurting him as he cries himself to sleep, but until then, he would jump at any opportunity to make new memories with him. “Of course not. That sounds good, the four of us together, like the old times,” he said, getting momentarily lost in John’s beautiful eyes. “Like the old times,” John repeated fondly, his gaze connecting with Roger’s in a shared longing stare. They fell into a small moment of silence before it was shattered by a man who approached them, claiming to be John’s acquaintance.

Roger’s heart was heavy in his chest as he brought himself to say his farewells and led Dominique away from the two men. The thing about love is that it hurts so much when you see the love of your life fall out of love first, whilst you’re still hanging by the memories of your first kiss.

2\. Punishment

The first time Roger met Dominique, she was sitting with her legs crossed at the side of his bed, staring at him in silence. Her silky dark hair had been pulled up into a messy bun, although a few stubborn strands of midnight escaped and rested limply against her neck. Even in the navy blue scrubs that made her appear quite intimidating (at least for Roger, whose hatred for hospitals ran like adrenaline in his veins) and the lack of effort she made to appear desirable, she managed to stole Roger’s breath with her natural beauty and the charismatic aura she gave off.

He was still quite groggy from the cocktail of anesthesia and pain medication he had been given, but his mind was clear for the first time in days. The silence that draped over them provided him with a sense of tranquility that he never thought he would find in a hospital. The bed sheets were pristine and white as everything else in his room, and the intense glare of the shocking-white fluorescent light above him was quite unforgiving, but instead of the mix of rage and grief he expected to feel, only serenity enveloped him like his favourite blanket from childhood. It must’ve been the drugs, and he was quite grateful for that.

Hospitals for him symbolized death, loss and hurt. It’s a place that reeked with the smell of bleach that emanated from the thin layers of bedding, mixed with the metallic tang of stainless steel in the open air, and the overwhelming scent of antiseptic, but none of those smells could rid the air of the death and doom which lingered in the atmosphere. He never wanted to be here again, and yet it was on the cold and rigid hospital bed that he found himself at peace for the first time since what felt like a few lifetimes. In a place which reminded him the most of the point at which his life went wrong, he found the closest thing to happiness that he can ever touch again.

“I’m Dominique,” the nurse’s steady yet gentle voice broke the silence as easily Roger broke John’s heart. “Roger,” he replied feebly, trying to blink away his daze. There was a flat-screen television hung high up on the wall opposite from him, and instead of entertaining them with an empty void of momentary laughs and tales twisted a thousand times before, it’s pitch back surface reflected the image of two strangers brought together by coincidental incidents. Beams of sunlight spilled in from the outside through the window at one side of the room, and it shed a sense of realness and beauty into the still lifelessness of the hospital atmosphere.

Dominique might have been waiting for him to say something, but he had nothing worth saying. “If you want to talk, I’m here. I won’t judge you, and we’ll probably never see each other again,” she said after silence began growing too thickly between them. Roger frowned and remained silent, moving his gaze away from the dark-haired woman sitting in front of him towards the blanket which rested atop his legs. It was then that the sore sensation on his face and the dull pain that throbbed under the skin of his left shoulder resurfaced, reminding him of what had led him to lie on top of a hospital bed, even with how hot and overwhelming the resentment he felt for hospitals were.

He hated Dominique for taking away the tiny shred of calmness he’d been lent, so quickly and without a care for his miserable heart. “What? So you can feel good about yourself because you feel like you’ve helped someone while in actuality all you did was slack off from work?” He spat, a deep scowl on his face. At his side, Dominique’s face remained neutral as she corrected, “I’ve finished my shift. I’m staying here instead of getting the rest I deserve because you remind me of someone I used to know.” There was yet another stretch of silence that followed, as Roger tried to calm himself down by breathing in as deeply as he could before exhaling, counting each gasp of air he took. The nurse sitting by his side probably didn’t deserve his anger—the peace and quiet of Roger’s mind was probably bound to be short-lived anyway.

When she spoke again, her voice was quiet and fragile-sounding, a contrast to how strong and steady it had been moments ago, “A few years ago, I was just like you.” Roger turned to look at her again, his anger had dissipated into the air, although his mind was still in utter chaos compared to the blissful quiet it had been when he woke up. “I was lying on the hospital bed with injuries inflicted by a man whom I thought loved me,” she continued, gaze directed towards her hands folded together on her lap. She seemed so vulnerable, with her shoulders slumped and head bowed down, that Roger felt a twinge of sympathy for her, despite not liking what she was implying.

She reminded him of his mother, and if he could have done anything to make her feel better, he would, but there was nothing he could do except offer a few empty words of compassion. Words do nothing to take your pain away, especially not from a stranger, and Roger had learned that first hand after the biggest loss of his life which still haunted him to this day. “Walking away was quite possibly the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” she said when she finally raised her head to look into his baby blue orbs again, “But it’s also the best thing I did for myself.” There were no tears glazing her eyes, but the pain and sadness reflected in her dark-coloured irises as she spoke.

“I’m happy for you,” he said, and he meant it. He’d seen how hard it was for his mother to accept that his father was never going to change and walk away. “But I’m different. I deserve it,” he continued, and had meant it too. He deserved it for all the horrible things he’d done to John, whose patience and unconditional love never warranted all of the hurt Roger had caused him. He can no longer justify himself being in a relationship with a person whose anger does not manifest as bruises on his face and cigarette burns on his skin. Not after having John put up with his explosive anger for seven years only to end up breaking his heart and misusing his trust.

Dominique shook her head, her soft expression growing stern again, “I don’t care what you did that was so bad you think you deserve this, but letting yourself be treated like this will not do anyone any favour. If you killed someone, then save a thousand lives. If you ruined a life, help people get back on their feet for the rest of eternity. Make the world better instead of hurting yourself.” Her words hit him hard like a train at full speed, squeezing the cone-shaped organ in his chest and knocking breath out of him. It sounded ridiculous to admit that a few words from a stranger at a hospital made him realize the flaws of the belief he’d been desperately holding on to for over a year, but that one moment was the turning point he needed in his life.

3\. Freddie’s Party

Freddie’s small fashion boutique in Kensington had grown into a much larger business with a few outlets all over London, and Roger really wanted to be happy for him, but he couldn’t, no matter how many times he tried to tell himself that he should. Seeing the product of his best friend’s labour in the form of a beautiful double-storey building with a vast, tasteful garden Freddie had always dreamed of, all he felt was selfish bitterness.

While he’d been gone, Freddie’s business had flourished, Brian had become a father for the third time, and John had found happiness with a guy who’ll probably treat him better than Roger ever could. No matter how he looked at it, he couldn’t help but think that everyone’s life had turned for the better because of his absence from them. Meanwhile, all Roger did was soak the pillow that used to smell like John with his useless tears during the nights he missed John’s smiles and warmth.

Still, he tried his best to muster his most sincere-looking smile for his friends, because he knew they did nothing to deserve his misplaced venom and rancour.

Dominique was quiet at his side, although she did seem quite comfortable, swirling a glass of margarita with a smirk on her face as she listened to Freddie’s exaggerated recounting of his and Jim’s first encounter. “I nearly died!” He exclaimed, earning a joyous roar of laughter from their small group. Roger, despite the selfish jealousy he felt seeing all of his friends being so happy with their lives, couldn’t help but join in with his own swell of laughter. He’d missed Freddie’s stories more than he had thought he was.

They were sat outdoors in the large, splendid garden, where a few stone benches and picnic tables were neatly arranged for occasions like this. There was a small pond upon which a tiny, polished wooden bridge sat, and a few koi carps swimming persistently in its clear water, a mixture of white and bright orange bringing life into the pool of stillness. Trees and plants Roger couldn’t name surrounded them with their refreshing pallet of green, purple, red and yellow, and sheltered them from the uncaring sun under their shades.

“Oh come on Fred, even Jamie wouldn’t buy that, and he’s seven,” Brian said, a fond smile gracing his lips as he called out the wild, unbelievable nature of Freddie’s tale. His smile didn’t last long though, as an air so thick and heavy with gloom soon enveloped them. Watching Brian’s smile die so quickly as he thought more thoroughly about his words was painful because of how unfair it was. It was completely warped how the curly-haired man couldn’t even bring his eldest son up in a conversation with his old friends without turning the mood sour.

Robert would’ve also been seven.

There was a look of guilt in Brian’s hazel eyes as he chanced a glance in the direction of Roger, and then John. The blond was trying his best not to let the sadness and despair he felt at the reminder of his child’s absence show, but he wasn’t sure if he did well enough because when Brian spoke again, his voice was small and frail, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”. The curly-haired astrophysicist let the sentence hang in the air like dandelion seeds trying to find a new home to grow into, because there was no way he could have finished it without making the situation even worse.

Roger tugged the corners of his lips upwards in an effort to mimic a smile, but didn’t have the heart to look up from the nearly-empty cocktail glass in his hand. It was John who neutralized the air of sorrow around them, as usual, “No need to apologize, mate. You did nothing wrong.” His voice was calm and steady as he spoke, and Freddie took his reply as an opportunity to shift the topic into something less woeful, but Roger couldn’t bring himself to listen anymore.

They told him that pain fades with time, but whoever they are, they were lying. The gnawing pain of losing someone so precious to you will stay in the corners of your heart, behind the shadows of your joys, no matter how much time passes. You’ll learn to live with it, but it’ll always be there to remind you of ugly what-could’ve-beens, in the back of your mind and beneath every smile you force.

4\. Robert’s Pyjamas

Four days after the dismal funeral, the table in the dining room and the floor beneath it was still covered with bouquets after bouquets of unwanted, wilting flowers and heartfelt messages engraved on pallid cards that did nothing to ease the pain Roger felt despite the well meaning behind them. He hated the sight of those sad blooms that glared at him every time he passed the dining room as despite their beauty and representation of affection and care, all they did was to remind him of his grief. Despite that, he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of them as they were brought to him and John by their little Robert, regardless of the circumstances.

If he hadn’t seen the white petals of the lilies shrink and turn a murky shade of yellow, he would’ve been certain that only a few hours had passed since they saw Robert’s pale, lifeless face for the last time. The pain that spread from the core of his chest all the way to the tip of his fingers did not seem to lessen, despite the passage of time that should’ve healed him, even if by a miniscule amount. Every time he fell asleep, he’d wake up and instantly feel as though he’s missing a limb, the feeling of incompleteness so blatantly wrong that it sent him into fits of tears again.

Every corner of the house was so quiet and wrong without Robert’s joyous laughter and his tiny race cars strewn all across the kitchen floor, the sound of some underrated cartoon playing in the background as he told him about the dream he had last night. Roger always ended up in his room where it still felt as though he hadn’t left, with his tiny clothes spread out on the bed as if waiting for Roger to help his son into them. He’d clutch on to Robbie’s favourite pyjamas and bawl his eyes out, asking himself why does it have to be him, even though he knew how selfish that question was.

No part of it was fair, of course. Robert was too young, too pure to have been taken away like that, in the midst of pain and chemotherapy, and hospital rooms and crying adults. If Roger could, he would’ve done anything if it meant that he could fight Robbie’s battle for him, just so that his little baby wouldn’t have to go through the intense pain one could only imagine. Just so that he could one day grow up to be a man, or a woman, or anything he ever wanted to, old enough to experience the heartache of break-ups and the pure ecstacy of a first kiss. But they just couldn’t and it wasn’t fair that neither of them had a choice.

John had gone back to work the day after the funeral and had barely spoken to Roger since. He’d get out of bed so early in the mornings and collapse straight into bed once he got home, as if it was his husband he was avoiding, not the emotions running wild in his chest. The better part of Roger knew that John was hurting just as much, and that the only way he could cope was by burying his face in the marvelous distraction that was numbers and figures, but he couldn’t help but hate how seemingly-unfazed his husband was. Why can’t he just stay home and cry in Robert’s closet with him? Why did he have to leave Roger feeling so alone and miserable while he’s out there trying to pretend that nothing was wrong?

It was stupid, given how well Roger knew John, but in the end it felt to him like his husband simply didn’t care that their son had died. It felt as if Roger was the only one whose life had turned upside down at the loss of their sweet little angel, but if he’d been slightly less egocentric and had thought properly without the pain of loss tainting his lenses a leaden shade of bronze, he would’ve seen the situation as it was—that both of them were trying their best to hold on to the skeleton of the world they had once built, although through different paths.

5\. Burns

The gentle gusts of July wind swept the tension in the air away, and by the time they had moved to enjoy the fine architecture of Freddie’s peanut-shaped pool on the other side of the property, the laughter had grown genuine again. Roger inhaled the murderous wisps of smoke from his cigarette and enjoyed basking in the warm, incandescent glow of the sun and relaxed as nicotine filled his lungs.

The pair of sunglasses he had been wearing was hiding his gaze as he watched John’s shoulder shake with laughter. The brown-haired man was quiet as he usually was in such a large group, but his eyes smiled as he listened attentively to every anecdote shared and jokes attempted, a cigarette between his lips. Back then, Brian would’ve chastised them for smoking and told them how dangerous it was for everyone involved, but now the curly-haired man sat quietly on Freddie’s sun lounger although his eyes gleamed with worry and the slightest bit of distaste. It signified what time had done to pull them apart from the close-knit group that they once were, into miserable adults walking on eggshells around each other.

Dominique was sitting beside Chrissie a few feet away from him, and even though he’s glad she seemed to have gotten along very well with someone from the small party, he felt a little bit lonely without her by his side. Even though three of his most favourite people were standing just within an arm’s reach from him. Two years apart and an unsavoury last encounter did not break the bond between them, although it did leave them with cracks that threatened to deepen at the slightest bit of quake. Roger couldn’t help but feel bad for having made Brian and Freddie felt like they had to pick a side, and he knew they were angry for what he’d done to John (as they should be) but they loved him enough to still be able to look past his blunder to see him as the same friend they met all those years ago.

Roger had been watching John from the corner of his eyes as it was the last time he’ll be able to watch him so closely, so when the brown-haired man had turned to him and reached a hand out in Roger’s direction, his heart skipped a beat as if he was twenty-one again, having his shameless flirting returned by the cute boy behind the ice-cream cart. He lost his breath as he felt John’s large, rough hand envelope his lower arm with the amount of gentleness he couldn’t have deserved. Even when the expression of calmness on his ex-husband’s face twisted into a worried frown, Roger couldn’t stop himself from staring longingly at the beautiful face which had once been his hold and to kiss.

“This is new,” John spoke, his voice laced with concern so thick that it stuck like honey to the spot his thumb was tenderly caressing, where five oval marks that marred the skin on Roger’s wrist formed a crooked circle. Roger’s eyes drifted away from John’s face as quickly as John had continued, “What happened?” He couldn’t raise his head to see the look of concern on his ex-husband’s face. “It’s none of your business, John,” he said more curtly than he intended to, pulling his arm away from John’s grasp, and he shouldn’t be surprised by how easily the other man had let go of his hand but he was. He could only wish that John could let the issue go as easily, though.

“I’m worried about you,” he spoke again, his voice firm and steady, “Did someone do that to you?” Even though Roger should’ve been flattered that even after the hell he’d put John through, the other man still had the capacity to show concern for his well-being, it was self-centered anger that was at the forefront of his mind at those words. He hated how incapable he was in John’s eyes that the other man had thought that Roger couldn’t even take care of himself without John being there to guide him. It might be true, but it still enraged him that John thought so lowly of him.

He saw John’s gaze directed towards the sun lounge where Dominique was sitting, so Roger responded, annoyance thick in his voice, “Dom doesn’t smoke.” He couldn’t stop the scowl from showing on his face, but if John noticed, he didn’t react to it. His voice was cool and calm as he spoke again, “You shouldn’t be hanging around people who treat you like that, Rog.” Roger felt the anger in his chest grow warmer and stronger at that remark, even though if he hadn’t been so insecure he would’ve taken it as the affectionate gesture that it was. All he knew was that it wasn’t fair that John was reprimanding him for the kind of people he associated himself with, because he lost the right to snoop his nose around Roger’s business the moment he kicked Roger out of their house.

“It’s not your problem, now, is it, John?” he snapped, the cigarette in his hand burning away in neglect. “I’m not your problem anymore, so just fucking leave it,” he uttered angrily, although it was more hostile than he intended it to be. He hated himself for the way John’s face fell, morphing into an expression of sadness at his words. He’d hurt John’s feelings again, even though all the other man did was to try to show Roger his concern for him. He wanted to apologize, but the words got stuck in his throat as his mind screamed how ungrateful and heartless he was for having hurt John over and over again.

“Sorry,” John muttered dejectedly, his eyes refusing to meet Roger’s. As always, in the end, it was John who ended up being the more reasonable, matured one, despite being two years younger than himself. When his ex-husband raised himself from the seat next to him and stalked off to once again put a safe distance between the two of them, Roger nearly slapped himself in frustration.

6\. The Last Fight

Kissing Lucas was like a drug, and while Roger was in his desperate hold, it was as if he was no longer in the same world where Robert died. For just a moment or two, he could cease being the man whose four-year-old son had passed, and pretend that he was young again, with his prince charming pressed flush against his body.

Even then, he knew that he was never in love with Lucas, just addicted to the way he made him feel, and he suspected the other man saw it the same way. Their clandestine meetings in empty, darkened parking lots instilled within him the sweet release of escapism he couldn’t seem to find elsewhere, and took his mind away from the room where Robert’s plastic dinosaur still sat.

The high that only doing something so illicit could give you was so alluring that despite the guilt that was beginning to eat him from the inside. He told himself John wouldn’t mind if he didn’t know, and promised himself that he was going to stop as soon as the home where he lived stopped being a glaring reminder of the child that was missing from his life. John rarely talked to him in those days anyways, so he probably wouldn’t mind Roger finding affection from someone else too much, since he was basically married to his job now.

Usually during nights Roger would return late from Lucas’ home, John would either be asleep on his side of the bed, back against the empty spot next to him, or he would be absent from their shared apartment altogether, but that night John had been waiting for him in the living room, face contorted in the cold kind of anger that could kill words in its silence.

His eyes were steely as he watched Roger take off his shoes and entered the living room. “What?” Roger had asked defensively as his husband continued to stare at him in silence, tension so thick in the air that it suffocated him with its bitterness. His guilty mind was trying to convince him that John knew of his affair with Lucas, but he tried to keep his cool. The room was dimly lit, only the blue-ish light from the television and some streetlight that spilled into the room through the window illuminating John’s figure as he sat on the armchair with his arms crossed rigidly over his chest.

Roger was about to stomp his way into their bedroom and lock the door when John finally spoke, “Sit down. We need to talk.” His voice lacked the warmth that Roger was already used to hearing, but he wasn’t surprised since it’s been a long while since John had been anything but cold towards him. The blond huffed and begrudgingly took a seat on the couch opposite from his husband, more loudly than he naturally would in an attempt to make obvious the anger that was blooming in his chest.

He mirrored John’s expression as he stared at the man and waited for him to speak. “Look, I know it’s been a tough year. It is for me too, but you can’t just run away from your responsibilities forever!” He began, and Roger frowned, sinking deeper into the couch with his arms hugging himself in response to the accusatory tone in John’s voice.

“What are you even talking about?” He asked even though he had a clear idea of what John was trying to convey. It must’ve been the heaps of dirty laundry Roger had been leaving for John to sort out all by himself, and the lack of anything edible in their home during nights he’d chosen to kiss his pain away at Lucas’ house. Early in their relationship, both of them had come to the agreement that these mundane house chores were for Roger to take care of, and John would help out whenever he’s able to (which used to be more often than not).

John earned more and laboured more hours working at a computer factory as an electrical engineer, while Roger had made the decision to continue working at Freddie’s boutique for the rest of his life without a care for the Biology degree he’d earned, so the arrangement worked well for both of them. Seven years, Roger had somehow managed to keep their home upright even with how much he hated doing those repetitive chores, so why couldn’t he have a little break now that John is never home anymore and their house was no longer a home? He deserved a bit of rest after all that happened.

“I came home after a twelve-hour shift and there was nothing remotely edible, the house is a mess, and there’s barely anything clean to wear,” John added, confirming Roger’s suspicion that this was all about the chores he’d abandoned. Now that John doesn’t speak to him anymore, doing all the housework for him felt as if he was slaving away as his husband’s housekeeper. He huffed and responded, “Well you think you’re the only one who works? I work too so maybe grow up and take care of yourself!” He was getting worked up now, feeling the heat of rage crawling up his neck to his face, which reddened in return. Across from him, John tightened his fists and sat even straighter, leaning forward with his shoulders squared as if it could make his points come across easier.

“That’s not what we agreed to! I earn most of our money and you,” John paused momentarily as he pointed an angry finger in Roger’s direction, “You work six hours a day, and sometimes less!” He knew that John was right, and had all the right to be angry right now, but at that time, Roger felt as if his husband was expecting too much from him. Too much because he still hadn’t the heart to look at the living room where Robert used to watch his Sunday morning cartoons, his laugh chiming like a melody crafted by the angels themselves, more than he needed to. “No one told you to do so many bloody overtimes, John! And I don’t like staying home anymore so you’ll just have to deal with it,” he said and stood up to leave, considering the conversation to be over.

He paused when John spoke again, “You think you’re the only one who lost a son? Guess what, Robbie is my son too, but now it’s only me doing everything for the both of us.” The brown-haired man had stood up and paced forward, but he’s still a considerable distance from where Roger was standing. Roger had never seen John so angry before. His face was red and his features scrunched up, his teeth gritted together as if it was taking everything in him not to explode then and there.

They have known each other for about nine years—been married for five—and even though their disagreements and bickering were often as any other couple who’d been over the honeymoon phase, John had always been the calmer one in the relationship. He’d always been the one to back down and give Roger time to cool himself, even when the blond would throw things at the wall and destroy a couple of things in rage. On his worst days, John would thrash the room, but only after making sure he was all by himself. He was never an arsehole, unlike Roger who always lets his blinded rage take over him.

Seeing him standing so firmly with his hands balled into fists and his eyes glazed with a fire in his green-grey orbs that screamed that this was his last straw, his voice raised like it had never been before, was quite scary if Roger was honest. During that moment, Roger felt smaller than he really was, and a frightened child within him—the child who witnessed his father use his mother as a punching bag years and years ago—whispered that things will end very badly that night. That child didn’t know John. didn't understand how kind and gentle the other man was, but Roger had let the child take over him at that moment. He backed away from the other man in order to put more distance between them.

“I haven’t mentioned anything before because I understand that you’re sad, but Roger, it’s been a fucking year! Stop acting like you’re the only one who lost a kid, because you’re not,” John continued, filling the silence that had nearly wrapped around them like a thick, suffocating blanket. Roger backed away as John stepped towards him, until he felt his back hit the cold wall. “Shut up, John! It’s not fair that you get to spend so much time away from home at work and I don’t. You think I don’t know why you’ve been burying yourself in work? It’s because you hate this fucking house, like I do!” he barked back, fighting with all he had even with the tears that was starting to pool in his eyes.

John’s eyes grew colder, and for a moment Roger couldn't remember where he was, his mind a frantic mess and his thoughts entangled together in his head that he could barely think. Then, came the blow to his guts through John’s next words, “At least I’ve been working and not cheating on my husband with some random bloke!” Amongst all the emotion which Roger felt at that moment, guilt had been front and foremost in his heart, although it was hard to tell what emotion it was while he was consumed by the blinding rage that had eaten him away for months. “Well, you haven’t even spoke to me for a long time, let alone touch me! What do you expect?” he retorted, and mentally kicked himself when he saw John’s expression fell, so much despair reflected in his eyes.

“So it is true then. I should’ve known,” John’s voice was quiet as he spoke again, his eyes casted away from Roger to stare at the floor beneath them. It was during that moment that Roger saw the nineteen-year-old he met at the park with the ugliest fountain he’d ever seen, the boy who was afraid of losing the people that he loved, and he felt his heart swelling with guilt and regret. John didn’t deserve this. “Crystal told me he saw you with another guy being intimate, but I didn’t believe him. I’m such an idiot,” John’s greyish green eyes had looked back into his, and this time, the sadness and betrayal had been buried underneath blazing rage.

He crossed the distance between them and grabbed Roger’s upper arm, and although his touch was firm, it was nowhere hard enough to bruise or hurt him. That wasn’t what it seemed like at that moment though, not when the memories of his father’s drunken touch flashed in his mind, rapid like the beating of his heart. Tears were already spilling from his eyes by the time he found the strength to speak again, “I knew it—you're just like him. You're just like him. I knew it.” There was a moment of silence during which John’s hand tightened around his arm and Roger was sure that the child in him was right. He wasn't though. Because John wasn’t the monster Roger’s mind was painting him to be. John let go of his arm and turned away.

“Is that how you think of me now?” John asked, running a hand through his brown locks as he laughed mirthlessly at the situation. Roger didn’t dare to move, so he stood frozen with his back against the white wall of their living room, cheeks wet with tears. The silence stretched between them as everything they had built together for the past seven years started crumbling to the ground. It felt like a lifetime before John turned back to look at him, a dead look in his greyish eyes. “Get out,” he said, voice as cold as ice. Roger couldn’t process those words at first, so he stared at the other man with a blank look in his eyes.

“I said get out! Pack your things and leave!” He yelled, and Roger scrambled on his feet towards the bedroom to hastily pack up some of his clothes and essentials he could manage to remember, knowing that this was it. He walked out of the house with a suitcase at record speed, and didn’t look back as he walked towards his car, although he did flinch when he heard the slam of the door.

7\. The Park

When Robert was still a baby, they used to bring him to the park to watch him crawl on the grass, clutching his favourite race car in one hand. Still tucked away in Roger’s wallet was a picture of the three of them sat on the grass underneath the protective shade of an ancient-looking oak tree, an unrestrained grin on John’s youthful face as he sat with Robert perched on his lap and Roger’s head on his shoulder. He longed for the time when he was still welcome in John’s life, when death and loss still seemed like a faraway concept for them.

It was there that the two of them met for the first time too. Roger could vividly recall the ridiculous shirt John had been made to wear back then, red and white stripes catching the eye from miles away with how vibrant they were under the reflective lights of the sun rays. His long brown hair had been pulled up in a bun, and a cute cow-themed visor like a halo atop his head. His cheeks were full and round with the glow of youth, and his smile was small and shy as he greeted Roger with what must’ve been a scripted salutation.

Thirteen years later, Roger sat on a wooden bench two feet away from where he had encountered his ex-husband for the first time, the photograph of the family he once had in his hand. He had been avoiding this place as if it was a plague for a long while now, afraid of remembering how precious of a husband he’d lost, all because of his stupid mistakes and irrational behaviour, but right now, there was peace and quiet in his mind as he tried to recall the way John laughed so enthusiastically at his unfunny joke when they first met.

It was such a long, challenging road but after two and a half years of despising himself for ruining the only good thing he had, he could finally let it go. Let the beautiful thing that he had with John go so that he could finally be at peace with himself. He was stupid, and cruel in his opinion, but that was all in the past, and the future was now spreading its arm to embrace him with the possibility of change. He made a mistake with John that he could never reverse, but he could still learn from it and do better next time. He was still quite young and a lot awaited him in the near future.

Even with that said, the feelings he felt for his ex-husband lingered in his chest like a ghostly mist clouding his heart’s gaze, and though it didn’t feel as if it would clear up anytime soon, he was willing to try. He might not be able to love anyone as deeply as he did John, but the least he could do was to try.

“Hello, would you like some ice-cream?” Roger blinked when he thought he heard John’s voice pulling him out of his thoughts. He raised his eyes from the photograph he had been staring at to see his ex-husband standing in front of him, his frizzy perm catching the light around the edges. “John?” He asked, squinting at the man standing before him even though he could tell John from miles apart even without his glasses. It felt so unreal that it almost seemed as though he was hallucinating at first. John chuckled, hands still hidden away in the pocket of his camel-coloured jacket as he responded, “No, it’s Freddie.”

Roger couldn’t help but laugh at that like it was the funniest thing ever. It was just surreal that John was suddenly there in front of him, his familiar sense of humour displayed unabashedly once again. “May I have a seat?” John had asked politely, gesturing towards the empty spot beside Roger. The blond nodded enthusiastically and scooted over to make even more room for him, “Of course.” They fell into silence after that, and the air felt charged with all the unspoken emotions and broken promises hanging like smoke in the atmosphere of Roger’s living space. Roger didn’t dare hope again, not after his blind hope that a miracle would somehow save Robert’s life just in the nick of time turned into a blazing fire that burned him alive, but he thought he saw John turned to look at his hand pressed flat against the wooden seat of the bench, as if considering putting his own atop Roger’s.

When they first met, it was Roger who led the conversation, but this time it was John who spoke first, because Roger was too afraid of breaking the peaceful spell between them and watching it turn into screaming and heartbreak all over again. ”I have a confession to make,” John’s voice was quiet and soft, but there was confidence behind it, the kind that can only be present in a speech long mulled over. Roger turned his head to look at John again, the other man watching him closely as if trying to gauge his reaction to the confession that was yet to be made. He nodded, forcing the corners of his lips to tug upwards into a small, easily missable smile, in an attempt to encourage John to continue speaking, even though he was afraid of what John was about to say.

Was John about to tell him that he found out that he was never in love with Roger in the first place? That he was now happier than he had ever been in the eleven years they had been together? The longer the pause in their conversation stretched, the more anxious he became, and he was grateful when John continued, “Adam and I were never together. I bought him a couple of drinks for pretending to be my lover.” Roger felt his jaw go slack at that, his mouth hanging agape as he tried to process those words. He felt a spark of joy in his chest once he was sure he’d heard those words correctly, although it dimmed to give space to the guilt he felt for being so selfish. He shouldn’t celebrate the fact that John isn’t happily in love with someone else, because he deserved all the happiness in the world after dealing with the mess that was Roger for over a decade.

“Dominique and I broke up two weeks before Fred’s wedding,” he offered, feeling a metaphorical weight being lifted from his shoulders after finally telling the truth for once, “Guess we’re both losers, huh?” John laughed as he always did even when the jokes Roger made weren't funny. They both settled into silence once again, although the air was lighter around them this time, and it wasn’t uncomfortable. On the contrary, it was warm and nostalgic like the closet of his childhood bedroom where everything he used to love was still kept to collect dust. “I wanted to see if you’d still care, you know, if I’m with someone else,” John continued after a while, looking at the neatly-trimmed grass underneath his feet, flattened by his weight.

“And?” Roger prompted, raising an eyebrow as he turned to look at the other man again. John’s green-eyed gaze connected with his for a moment, and he could feel electricity buzzing underneath his skin. John maintained their eye-contact as he replied, “You still do.” Roger broke their eye-contact in favour of looking at his lap, where the photograph of his family was still resting, feeling ashamed that he was so easy to see through. “I always found it endearing that you’re so transparent with your feelings,” John said, his tone fond and even though Roger didn’t like the fact that John could read him like a book, even when he’s desperately trying to hide his ever-present feelings for John, he felt his heart flutter at those words. To be remembered so dearly by the love of his life despite all the mistakes he’d done, was surely one of the biggest blessings he’ll ever get in his life.

“That’s just another way of saying you love that I can’t act for shit,” he rolled his eyes nonetheless, and he grinned as he spoke. “Yes it is,” John agreed with a look of amusement on his face that turned into a serious expression only seconds after. Roger was afraid that the abrupt change in expression meant that John was finally going to drop the niceties and finally tell him how horrible of a husband Roger once was, but what he said after sounded so beautiful in his ears that not even the best of music this planet has to offer could come close to it, “I still love you.” Roger couldn’t control the way his eyes watered at that and the intense feeling of melancholic joy that bloomed in his chest.

To hear that he wasn’t the only one who had been unable to let go of this unconditional love he felt for John absolutely heartened him, but still, there was a hint of sadness in his glee that reminded him that he didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve John’s love after all he’d done to break his heart. John was simply too kind and affectionate to realize how much of a useless waste of air that Roger was. He couldn’t bring himself to look at John’s face to see his kind eyes because if he did, he would jump at the opportunity of having John back in his life, only to fuck it up again later. “I cheated on you, John,” he reminded his ex-husband, although the words tasted bitter and acidic as they rolled off his tongue. John’s hand that now rested atop his on the bench was warm and gentle, and it took all Roger had not to lean in and hold him to never let go again.

“Yes, and it hurts me like hell. But I’ve hurt you too,” he replied, passion seeping from his voice into the air around them, “I shouldn’t have shut you out. I should’ve been there with and for you.” Roger’s eyes stung and he directed his gaze to the sunny blue sky above them in an attempt not to let the tears spill. John had always been too kind, too forgiving, and it scared Roger to think about the kind of people who could’ve taken advantage of such a big heart. He was afraid that his voice would break if he tried to speak now, so he responded by shaking his head and pulling his hand away from John’s, even though it was one of the hardest things he’d ever done in his life.

When he was sure his voice wouldn’t come out like a cry for help, he said, “I cheated on you even though I knew how you felt about it, John. I don’t deserve you. Not anymore.” Roger feared the photograph in his hand would crumple and the only thing he had that could remind him of how perfect everything had once been for him would end up destroyed by his own hand too, so he busied himself trying to put it back in his wallet where it belonged. His hand trembled very slightly at his effort. “We both made mistakes, Roger. It wasn’t only you who hurt me—I’ve hurt you too!” John said and it was amazing how convincing he made it sound even if Roger’s mind told him that it was partially a lie.

He was made to turn back to John’s direction when the other man slid closer to him, closing the small distance between them and trying to catch his eyes. “I’m sorry I made you think I was going to hit you that night, and I’m sorry for shutting you out when we needed each other the most,” he said, and with the sincere look in his green eyes, it was impossible for Roger’s resolve not to weaken and start to crumble. He wanted nothing more than to stay in this moment forever, frozen in time as he stared into the depths of John’s beautiful greyish orbs. “I’m sorry I cheated on you. And made you do all the housework even though you worked so much,” he said after a moment of silence, and that was the moment he felt all the guilt he had been carrying all these years thinning. It didn’t completely disappear, but it was no longer as suffocating as it had been before. It was crazy to think that a small apology could do so much to clear his conscience.

John smiled and nodded, reaching out to take Roger’s hand into his again, and this time, the blond didn’t resist. “Would you like to try again?” John asked, and it was the only happy ending Roger could ever ask for. He nodded as quickly as he could, the most genuine smile to ever grace his lips forming on his face. The kiss they shared that day, right on the bench in the park where they had met for the first time, spoke of the undying love that tied them together like a chain on their ankles binding them to each other. The three years that broke them apart now seemed like an ugly, old photograph, waiting to be burned with the shift in their fate.

**Author's Note:**

> TW: PAST DOMESTIC VIOLENCE/ CHILD ABUSE, PAST ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIPS, DEATH OF A CHILD CHARACTER, TERMINAL ILLNESS
> 
> If you made it until the end, thank you! I just wanted to contribute to the Joger week somehow because I love this pairing, and that was the result. I hope it wasn't too bad. I deliberately left some stuff vague to leave room for interpretation, but I hope it wasn't confusing.


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